"Coming!" called Garrison. He added, to Theodore: "Keep one hand up.
Unlock the door." He called out again: "Keep cool when it's opened.
Don't confuse the situation."
Young Robinson, convinced that resistance at this point was useless, inserted the key in the lock and opened the door, at the same time casting a knowing look at his father, who stood over next to the wall.
In the instant that Garrison's attention was directed to the unlocked room, old Robinson made a quick retreat to a tiny red box that was screwed against the wall and twice pulled down a brass ring.
Garrison beheld the action too late to interpose. He knew the thing for a burglar-alarm—and realized his own position.
Meantime Dorothy had not emerged.
"Jerold! Jerold!" she cried. "My feet are chained!"
"Get in there, both of you, double-quick!" commanded Garrison, and he herded the Robinsons inside the room, fairly pushing them before him with the gun.
Then he saw Dorothy.
White with fear, her eyes ablaze with indignation at the Robinsons, her beauty heightened by the look of intensity in her eyes, she stood by the door, her ankles bound together by a chain which was secured to the heavy brass bed.
"Jerold!" she cried as she had before, but her voice broke and tears started swiftly from her eyes.